


Respite

by ArianneMaya



Series: Aftermath [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1709231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianneMaya/pseuds/ArianneMaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>As soon as Natasha walks in, Steve's worries intensifies. She looks even more exhausted than what he was expecting when she told him she was coming. Since Hill hadn't heard from her, he'd expected her to have gone off the grid or be holed up with Barton somewhere, or both. Instead, she looks like she hasn't slept since he last saw her. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Respite

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Eeyore9990 for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

As soon as Natasha walks in, Steve's worries intensifies. She looks even more exhausted than what he was expecting when she told him she was coming. Since Hill hadn't heard from her, he'd expected her to have gone off the grid or be holed up with Barton somewhere, or both. Instead, she looks like she hasn't slept since he last saw her. 

He knows she couldn't stand feeling like he's babying her, so he goes for the reasonable truth: she can't drive in the state she's in. He can see on her face that she's aware of that, but once again, she shakes her head. 

There's almost no words for the relief Steve feels when, just as he's desperately searching for an excuse to make her stay, Sam's casual question about being followed convinces her. He can almost see the moment when she realizes that she feels safe with them and the smallest bit of tension that leaves her shoulders. 

She follows them to the living room and curls up in an armchair. 

“So,” Steve asks as he sits on the couch in front of her, “You gonna tell us what's going on?”

Natasha nods, but she says, “It's a little complicated.” He can see her doing her best to appear as strong as she always is, but for some reason, it isn't working. As if the fear and adrenaline that kept her on her feet until now deserted her body as soon as she walked through the door. 

She probably thinks it's a bad thing, but Steve can't, not when he notices how badly she needs a real night of sleep. 

“Just tell us what happened to make you shaky like that.”

She pulls her feet up under herself. “When I left you... I still have maybe two or three aliases that SHIELD knew nothing about. They're not in any database, no-one knows about them except for Clint. He's also the only one who knows where the safe houses tied to those aliases are.” 

Sam walks over to sit on the couch next to Steve as Natasha keeps talking. “There's one house in particular, safest place I could think of. Right before we took down SHIELD, I sent a message to Clint. Told him that shit was about to get serious real fast and to meet me there when things slowed down. When I got there, all I found was a letter telling me that he wasn't coming.”

“Isn't the fact that he had the time to send you a letter a good thing?” Steve asks. 

“No,” she says. “It means that he couldn't call me or leave me a message in any other way. It means that a letter full of nonsense that I'd be the only one to understand was what he thought was the safest. He told me that the house wasn't safe – which is why I've been on the move since then – but he didn't tell me when or where I could find him.” She presses her hands together. “All I know is that he was undercover when we took down SHIELD, deep enough that he couldn't tell me where he was going or with whom. And now, I have no way to contact him, and I have no fucking idea where he is.” 

Once she seems to have run out of words, Steve asks, “Have you spoken to Hill recently?”

“No. That damn letter made me so upset that I got sloppy.” 

Steve hesitates, needs to see Sam nodding like he knows exactly what Steve's thinking and agrees with him before he says, “She's started a body count. Of...” He forces the words out. “Of the people whose cover were blown when we took down SHIELD, and who were murdered. Barton isn't on that list.” 

“That doesn't mean anything.”

“No,” Sam says, “but you should start with her. If she hasn't heard anything, maybe she'll know where you can start searching.” 

The way she stares at him seems to make him uneasy. “Don't look at me like that. Just because I don't know him doesn't mean I can't see how much he matters to you.” 

Instead of bringing her the comfort Sam was obviously hoping to give, it looks like she's taken another blow. When she speaks again, though, all emotion has been cleanly washed out of her voice. “Thing is, if she can't help me, I need a safe way to look through the files I leaked. I know how to secure a network, it's not a problem, but I'm not even sure what I'm looking for, or how long it'll take me. That means I'll have to stay in the same place for as long as necessary to figure things out. And if one of my houses was compromised, I can't risk doing that from any of my old hide-outs.” 

“Well, since you're going to see Hill, you'll already be in New York. You should ask Tony. I'm sure you can stay at the tower and he'll be happy to help you.”

Steve's suggestion makes her smile. “I thought he was still recovering from his heart surgery.” 

“Yeah, he is. Means that he has to rest a lot, is bored out of his mind and is driving everyone around him insane. I think the only person who can currently stand him is JARVIS.” 

“Except,” the teasing edge to Natasha's smile makes the tension melt again, “that JARVIS isn't a person.”

Steve shrugs. “Exactly my point. Believe me, Bruce and Pepper will love you if you can keep him busy without exhausting him.”

“If you're sure...”

“Stark came up with five different new designs for my wings when all I asked him to do was fix them and stick with the design I was familiar with,” Sam says. “He really is that bored.” 

It's almost enough to make her laugh. “I think I see what you mean. I'll ask him.”

Even with a plan, though, she doesn't look like she's feeling any more solid on her feet. Steve knows he isn't the only one who thinks so when Sam asks, “What is it that you're not telling us?”

With a soft sigh, Natasha reaches for her bag, at the foot of her chair, pulls out a folded piece of paper and hands it to Steve. “Here.” As Steve grabs the letter and Sam moves closer to have a look too, she continues, “Don't expect to understand it. It isn't meant to be anything but nonsense except for me and him. Just look at the last line.” 

After reading, it takes Steve maybe a second to figure out who 'Uncle Phil' refers to. “Coulson? Is Barton saying that he's alive?”

“Yeah. So either Clint is HYDRA, added that last line just to mess me up, and I'm walking straight into a trap, or,” she shrugs, “Hell if I know.” 

“Doesn't that sound a little too intricate for a trap?” Sam asks.

With a tilt of her head, Natasha asks, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Sam says, “If it was a trap, it doesn't make sense for him not to tell you where to find him.”

“Except that everyone who knows us is aware that I'd do anything to help if I think he's in danger.” She only shrugs when she seems to realize that they're both staring at her. “It's true. That's how I first got involved with the Avengers. I was working on another mission, but Coulson called me in when Clint was compromised.” 

“I think I get it,” Steve says. “But if you forget the whole he could be HYDRA thing, and think of it as just another mission that went south... is there any reason why Barton wouldn't tell you where he is?”

She barely hesitates for a second before she says, “Because he knows that I'd do anything to get him out of trouble, so he's being an idiot, trying to do the noble thing and stop me from coming after him.”

“And if you keep going with that line of thought,” Steve continues, “Why would he tell you about Coulson?”

Again, her answer comes so fast that it's clear she's thought about it already. “To make sure that I have all the information and it can't be used to throw me off-course.” 

“So it could be just that. Right?”

Natasha stays silent, looking from one of them to the other before she admits, “It could be just that.” 

“And that's why you shouldn't assume the worst from the start,” Sam says. “Prepare for the worst, sure, but don't assume you've lost before you even try.” 

Slowly, she looks from one of them to the other. “You might be right.” And then, she shakes her head. “But if he's with them, they already know how to get me. The reason why I'm that good at what I do is because people keep underestimating me. Clint is one of the very few who never did. I can't forget that.”

Steve bends forward, resting his elbows on his knees and stopping himself right before he reaches for Natasha's hand. “We're not saying to forget it. Just... don't obsess over it. Stay aware of the possibility that it's a trap, but don't let that fear be the thing that drives you. You know better than that.” 

She looks down at the ground. “I should have thought of the rational explanation on my own.”

He wasn't expecting such an honest reaction but he does his best not to let it show. “You were exhausted and scared. It happens to the best of us.” 

With a shake of her head, she says, “Not to me.” 

“You're allowed to make mistakes, Nat. It doesn't mean you're weak. It just makes you human.”

“In my line of work, mistakes are deadly.” 

“Natasha.” This time, it's Sam who moves closer. “It's been two weeks already. If they haven't killed him yet, it means they're not planning to. You have time.” 

“Maybe.” She finally looks up at them again. “How is it that you knew exactly what I needed to hear?”

Steve shrugs. “That's what friends are for.” 

“It was a real question, you know.” 

He sighs. “Because I've been telling myself variations of the same thing since we lost track of Bucky.”

“How's that going for you?”

He doesn't really want to talk about it, but he can see how relieved she is by the change of subject. “We found him and we lost him again.” 

That seems to get her attention. Steve can see her opening up, slowly unfolding her body. “What happened?”

“We were storming a HYDRA base,” Sam says. “One of their guys got the better of me. He was _this_ close to seriously injuring me when someone shot him.”

“It was the Win...” Natasha stops herself at the last second with a wince, but Steve can't be angry. He knows that he's the only one who remembers the good man Bucky was, the only one who believes that man still exists. So he doesn't say anything while Natasha tries again, “It was him?”

“We can't know that for sure. I went looking for him afterward but he was already gone.” 

“Except that, with that kind of precision, it almost can't be anyone but Barnes,” Sam says. 

Steve nods. “Plus the fact that Hill sent us there on a lead for Bucky, not for HYDRA.” 

With a tight smile, Natasha says, “I was wondering. Funny how I remember you saying you wouldn't be going after the remnants of HYDRA.” 

“I'm not planning on making it my priority, but I was aware that the help we need to find Bucky wasn't going to happen without some kind of strings attached. Cutting off a couple more of HYDRA's heads while we're at it are the kind of strings I'm more than okay with.”

“I can understand that.” 

Steve is about to ask something else when he realizes that Natasha looks like she's going to fall asleep on the spot.

“You know,” Steve says, “there's a bed in the guest room that would be a lot more comfortable than a chair.”

“Maybe.” Natasha struggles to get herself out of the chair, presses the palm of her hand to her eyes. “But I'll sleep better here.” 

Steve almost asks why, but he doesn't get the chance. Instead, Sam says, “Want me to grab you a blanket and a pillow?

“That would be nice, yeah.”

Once Natasha settles on the couch to sleep, it takes Sam pulling on Steve's hand and steering him toward the bedroom for him to stop staring. 

As if he knows exactly what's making Steve uneasy, Sam says, “From there, she can keep an eye on the door and hear anyone who comes and goes. She's really gonna sleep better on the couch.” 

Just as he's about to climb into bed, Sam's words stop Steve dead in his track. “How do you know that?” 

“'Cause she told me.” 

Slipping under the covers, Steve pulls Sam close. “I had no idea you two were such good friends.” 

One of Sam's hands finds its way into Steve's hair in an easy caress. “Must have happened when we were relieving each other at the hospital, looking after our dumbass friend who let himself be beaten half to death.”

Steve's left speechless. He hasn't told anyone what happened on the helicarrier. As much as things made sense to him in the moment, he didn't have a hard time figuring out that no-one would agree with him. He swallows hard as he tries to get his voice back. “How... how did you know...?”

Sam's smile disappears like a candle blown out. “I didn't know.” His hand in Steve's hair is still gentle, but Steve can feel the tension radiating from him. “It's a thing the doc said, while you were sleeping. That she had no idea how you got injured that badly unless you let yourself be beaten up. I chose to think that she was wrong.” 

Steve isn't sure if there's a way for him to explain why he did what he did, but he knows that if he doesn't try, this will always stand between them. So he says, “It's not that I wanted to die.”

“But...?” 

“I had to find a way to get to him. To give him a chance. So I stopped fighting back, because fighting back would have meant killing him. I couldn't do that.” 

There's a long silence, long enough that Steve wonders if he just broke everything that's been building up between the two of them. 

“So you chose to let him kill you instead.” 

“He saved my life, Sam. I knew he wasn't going to kill me.” 

“No, you didn't. You couldn't know that.” 

He wants to say that Sam's wrong but he can't. He took a huge risk because he thought it might be worth the results if it brought Bucky back to him. 

“I wouldn't do that again,” he says, hoping like hell that Sam sees how serious he is, how much he means it. “I was... still hoping that all he needed was a little push and he'd be the Bucky I remember. Now I know that's impossible.” It's true that a foolish part of him still hopes for that, but he only has to think of the way Bucky had changed, already, when Steve found him after he'd been tortured and experimented on, during the war, to remember that allowing himself those kind of thoughts won't lead to anything but heartbreak. 

“You won't be any help to anyone if you die trying.”

“I know. I'm not planning on dying.” And, because he knows that Sam needs to hear it, because it's the truth, he says, “And I'm not planning on letting him kill me if he tries again.” 

After that, he doesn't say anything else, aware that all he can do is hope that it's enough. 

He breathes a sigh of relief when he hears Sam whisper, “I believe you.” 

It's only then that he thinks to ask, “Relieving each other at the hospital?” 

“Yeah.” Sam inches closer as he explains, “The first night, Natasha tried to make me go home to sleep. I told her that I didn't want you to wake up alone. She thought I had a good point, so an hour later, she was back, with a book, her own music, a cup of coffee and a pillow. She told me to go have a shower, some real food and sleep a bit if I could, and that she'd stay with you until I came back. We kept this up until you woke up.” 

Steve's throat tightens at the idea of how worried they both must have been. So much for hoping his question would get them back on a lighter topic. “I'm really, really sorry to have scared you like that.” 

“As long as you never do that on purpose again.” 

Time seems to stop as Steve realizes how much hangs in the balance of what he's about to say. “I won't. I promise you.” 

And, finally, he feels Sam relax against him. 

***

The next day, when Steve wakes up far too early, he grabs his sketchbook and sits at the kitchen table. He watches Natasha move on the couch, reaching under her pillow for what's probably a knife, and he says, “You can go back to sleep if you want, Nat. I'll keep watch.”

Instead of arguing, she offers him a small nod and buries herself under her blanket. As touched as he is by the trust she has to have in him in order to do that, he frowns as he realizes how much what happened unsettled her. 

On a new page, he draws Natasha. Not for the first time, he thinks he should invest in some colors. It feels like there's something missing without the bright spot of red of her hair on the pillow, the soft blue of the blanket next to her pale skin. 

Instead, he focuses on the details, on the tension that never leaves Natasha's small frame, making her ready to wake at a moment's notice. On the smallest hint of vulnerability on her face, the tight grip of her hands on the blanket. 

He isn't surprised that she stirs again when Sam's about to go out for his morning run. Sam makes his way to the kitchen, grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, then stops by Steve's side, resting a hand on Steve's shoulder to look at what he's doing. “Very pretty.” Steve offers him a smile as Sam says, “I should be back in an hour.”

“Sounds good.” And, just before Sam walks out, Steve grabs onto the hand leaving his shoulder to stop him. He needs to ask, because they never really finished their conversation last night, but he has no idea how to do it. So he simply says, “We're good, right?” 

Sam's expression softens and there's so much tenderness in his smile that Steve's heart tries to burst right out of his chest. Sam steps closer to kiss him, his hand finding Steve's cheek in a gentle caress. “Yeah. Yeah, we're good.” 

Steve lets out a sigh of relief as Sam walks out. It means that Sam believed the promise he made last night, and that the reason why Steve was injured that badly, on the helicarrier, isn't going to put a wall between them. That it won't be enough to separate them.

By the time Natasha wakes up again, Steve's put his sketchbook away and is dicing peppers for an omelet. He hears her move before he sees her. “There's fresh coffee if you want some.”

When he turns around, he finds her already sitting in a chair, her feet tucked under her, a cup of coffee in her hands and a blissful look on her face. He almost startles at how fast and quiet she was, but he thinks that's a good thing. If she's moving without him hearing her, it means she's slowly getting back on her feet. 

“Are you... cooking?” The disbelief in Natasha's voice makes him roll his eyes. 

“As surprising as it may be, I lived alone for over a year, and I didn't survive solely on take-out.” 

She arches an eyebrow at him. 

“Okay, Sam is a way better cook than I am, but I'm learning.” He points his knife at her. “At least I've never made water burn.” 

“That was Clint, not me.” 

“If you say so.”

The corners of her lips twitch. He considers that a small victory. 

“Did I hear Sam go out earlier?”

“Yeah.” And, when she looks at him like she expects a little more, he says, “Morning run.” The hint of a smirk on her face has him asking, “What?”

“Nothing, just... you know. I'd have expected you two to be the kind of couple who'd go running together, and be disgustingly cute all along.”

He has a hard time not laughing. If Natasha's gently teasing him again, it means she's doing much better than she was when she arrived. “Might have been. Except that, considering how fast we went from maybe kinda dating to living in each other's pockets, we'd both go insane if we did everything together. I usually go out before him.”

“Usually?”

“Told you I'd watch over you, didn't I?” 

When he looks at Natasha again, she's staring at him with her head tilted, looking like she's just starting to figure something out. “I really was barking up the wrong tree when trying to set you up with women, wasn't I?” 

A blush creeps on his face as he realizes that her first comment had really been her teasing him and that before that moment, she didn't know for sure. He almost trips over his next words. “Not really. I've always fallen for a person first. Gender never mattered much to me.” 

Natasha's expression changes until it feels like she's staring at him but seeing something that has very little to do with him. “You're lucky to have him.”

“Believe me, I know that.” 

Before she can add anything, he hears the front door open and close as Sam comes back from his run. Moments later, Sam's standing behind him, with an arm wrapped around Steve's waist. “Looks good. Need any help?” 

“Nah, I'm almost done. Go ahead and take your shower.” Steve turns his head for a quick kiss. 

“You sure you don't want me to help?”

“It's okay, I'll have it ready by the time you come out. And,” he playfully wrinkles his nose,“you're all sweaty. You really need that shower.” 

“Funny, you didn't seem to complain so much last night.” 

Steve tightens his grip on the knife and the cutting board. Sam's words bring forth images of the night before, Sam taking them both in hand and jacking them off together. They were trying to be as silent as they could, aware of Natasha sleeping in the living room, but they both kept bursting out laughing at how much it felt like being teenagers afraid of discovery. Just the thought has Steve's dick twitching. “You're so not playing fair, you tease.”

“You guys remember I'm still in the room, right?” Natasha, all prim and proper, breaks the spell, making them both laugh. 

“All right,” Sam says. “I'm gonna take that shower.” 

Breakfast is an easy thing, full of teasing and laughter, and of Natasha looking at them with the kind of fond smile that says she knew all along that this is what Steve needed, the exact reason why she kept trying to set him up with people. 

The reminder that she really cares, that if he needed her she would be there, no questions asked, is enough that, just as she's ready to leave, Steve says, “Hey, Nat. Think you can promise me something?”

“Depends on what it is.” 

“When you find Barton, if the situation is as bad as you fear it is... call us if you need back-up.” 

He's expecting her to take the way out he's giving. Instead, she crosses the steps separating them and takes him by surprise when she locks her arms around him. Behind her, he sees Sam rests a hand on her back. She releases a arm from around Steve to pull Sam closer. He feels her go almost lax between them as she says, “I will.” 

It sounds like the promise he was asking for. They stay like this for a long moment before Natasha gently pushes both of them away. She isn't smiling, but she looks fully in control of herself again. 

And Steve can't help but smile because, for the first time, he thinks they'll all come out of this mess feeling stronger.


End file.
